


scattered thoughts

by presidentwarden



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Force-Sensitive Phasma, Not quite a fic, a short lil thing, but it goes here bc its reysma, more an idea outline written up fic style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentwarden/pseuds/presidentwarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a very small idea i wrote up & put on tumblr and decided to dump here too. i love the concept of force sensitive phasma and i /really/ dig the idea of her and rey learning to communicate thru that</p><p>- - -</p><p>later on, they sit across a war-table, conspirators crowded around and a hologram shimmering between them all. it's a star-map, or a base, or some other information on the order, helped by the shreds of information phasma lets slip through her fingers like so many grains of desert sand. rey thinks this to herself, lingering on the analogy, and looks across the table to meet phasma's eyes. it is like staring too long at the brilliant sky. when phasma's mouth twitches in a smile, rey is blinded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	scattered thoughts

phasma is force sensitive. she's known all along, but never found a way to put voice to unspoken words, just feels the call and tug of something she cannot describe. it courses through her blood and sharpens her mind. it is unsuitable for someone of her station. she knows this. full of disgrace at her inner whispers of dissent, she returns time and time again to conditioning, modeling herself into what a perfect stormtrooper ought to be. ren knows, too, but he cannot use her, not in any way he would wish. she has suppressed herself well enough, and silenced any stray strands of thought that tangle within her brain and pull her towards different aims. her intentions are pure and clear; she serves the order. any influence beyond their reach is not worth her while.

and then she and rey face off, and it all changes.

later on, they sit across a war-table, conspirators crowded around and a hologram shimmering between them all. it's a star-map, or a base, or some other information on the order, helped by the shreds of information phasma lets slip through her fingers like so many grains of desert sand. rey thinks this to herself, lingering on the analogy, and looks across the table to meet phasma's eyes. it is like staring too long at the brilliant sky. when phasma's mouth twitches in a smile, rey is blinded.

they do this too often, sharing thoughts in a gentle ebb and flow of emotion and words without sound. it is difficult, learning this new silent speech, but rey is a master of languages and phasma is a fast learner and soon enough they can carry on a conversation in glances. rey is more talkative, reveling in her newfound company. in the vast and empty desert she could pour out words to herself and no one would ever be there to listen. here, her thoughts find a response, bouncing back sharp and quick in a way utterly different from the echoes she's grown used to. phasma is used to speaking through a glistening mask, her expressions concealed from the world. here she is bare-faced, her true self, with her words hidden from all but rey.

she prefers it this way.

(leia notices. a general always notices. sometimes she will intrude upon the conversation with a stern glance, prompting a lifted eyebrow from rey and complete stoicism from phasma. more often, though, she lets them stay, and be what they are. it would be a mistake to interrupt this bond they are forming. the new jedi and the reformed captain do not have many others in the world, and leia of all people would know the value of maintaining a connection with those who matter. we learn from our mistakes.)


End file.
